All I have to offer a thought, a poem, a prayer. Standing alone I clench the blood-steeped handle of the hatchet that cleft my soul in twain. And there was light to be found in the darkness. Though the gallow still awaits-- begging the question. Alone in a world of shadows corrupted--on these four walls I pound out the lines of my soul. And there you stood innocent, divine, uncorrupted. Here I stand gazing out over the mob this sea of wrath. Then the floor gave way I dropped-- my being ascended cleft--it arrived on two paths in the mist with a sunshine blessing I finally became whole once again.